Angela Campbell - Spirited Away

Thump.

He glanced up at the ceiling, his heart pumping like a hydraulic piston in his chest.

It was happening again.

Thump.

His hands squeezed the edges of the recliner. Ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away, or at least it hadn’t the other times. He sucked in a breath and cold air froze his lungs. When he exhaled, a white puff dissipated in front of his face.

Thump.

He forced himself to his feet. Even though he knew what it would read, he checked the thermostat anyway. It was still set on seventy degrees, but the room felt like a meat locker. Even the slick wood of the baseball bat he’d propped against the wall was cold to the touch, and—

Thump. Thump.

At the sound, he spun. This time it had come from downstairs. The kitchen? His feet felt heavy as he moved slowly in that direction.

He kept his voice loud and confident as he called out, “Hello?”

No answer.

The volume on the television jumped to a deafening level. The alarm clock in his study began screeching like a banshee. The clanging of metal-on-metal made it sound as if a marching band had invaded the kitchen. Covering his ears, he peeked into the room. All the pots and pans hung on the rack swayed to an unseen force, violently knocking into one another.

The kitchen door slammed shut in front of him. Noah was plunged into darkness as the television shut off, and seconds later the alarm clock did the same. Only a slither of moonlight penetrated the black room.

His heartbeat struggled to calm itself as he looked around. Nothing but shadows.

Soft, feminine whispering teased his ear, but for the life of him, he couldn’t make out the words.

The television flickered to life again at normal volume. Warmth chased the chill on his arms away.

As quickly as it had started, it was over.

After settling the baseball bat back in its spot against the stairs, he hurried over to one of the video cameras he’d set up the day before. It still flashed red, so he removed it from the tripod and carried it into his study. He removed the memory card and inserted it into his laptop, wondering if he’d captured anything through the night vision lens.

“Come on,” he muttered as he waited for the video to pull up. Rubbing at his eyes, he set the video to play at a fast speed. A pixilated version of himself sank into the chair and changed positions a few times before he jerked awake. He slowed the speed so he could watch, listening for the activity.

It was all there, caught on tape.

Noah ran a hand down his face, a breathy chuckle of laughter escaping his chest. There it was, all on tape this time. He wasn’t crazy. Holy mother . He wasn’t imagining it.

After rewinding the video, he stuck in earphones and jacked up the volume near the end. The soft whispers were audible. Barely.

Two explanations seemed plausible.

Either someone was pranking him, or there was some natural phenomena causing the lights and power to malfunction in the old house. Could be some kind of electromagnetic anomaly in the area that had caused his electronics to go haywire and the pots and pans to act possessed. Those type of things messed with brain waves, too. Some of the things he’d seen could have been hallucinations.

An electrician was supposed to come out tomorrow and check the wiring. That would probably explain things.

A bark outside drew his attention.

He groaned and pushed to his feet. “Don’t tell me she’s lost the dog again.” As he peeked through the blinds, he saw the ginger-haired girl being pulled into his yard by not one, but two dogs. At least she had them on leashes; although, from the look of things, it wouldn’t take much for them to get free.

They stopped at the edge of his front yard, and one of the dogs scrunched into the required catcher’s position to do his business. Thankfully, the girl pulled out a bag to pick it up.

And just his luck that they’d stopped under the streetlight.

He flipped the light switch off, raised the blinds and reached for the Nikon he had set up on a tripod. The camera angled until she was in the frame, zoomed in and captured a few shots. Might come in handy later.

The zoom tightened on her face as he focused the lens.

He hadn’t realized how pretty she was until now. Oh, he’d noticed she had a great body. He whistled. Girl was a looker that was for sure. And not a girl at all. She was a young and sexy woman. Exactly his type, but, then again, every woman was his type.

“Darling, too bad your daddy’s the chief of police. We sure could’ve had fun together.”

The short mutt lifted its head and glanced toward the window. Noah muttered a curse and froze. The woman – Emma – chewed at her lower lip and glanced around before bending to pick up the dog’s poop.

The phone behind him rang, and dread settled in his gut. Noah had a feeling he knew who it was, so he reluctantly tore himself away from the window to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Just checking in, West,” a raspy voice drawled. “I was starting to think you were avoiding my calls.”

“I told you. I prefer email.”

“Haven’t gotten any of those from you either. You’ve been there more than a month. I expected to have something by now. Talk to me.”

Noah closed the blinds and flipped the lights back on. His gaze fell on the collection of photos pinned to a corkboard. Photos of Hannah Dawson and Zachary Collins getting in their cars, walking their dogs and moving around inside their house across the street. Alexandra King and Zach Collins’ younger brother sitting at a table at one of those sidewalk cafes.

“Collins just got married,” Noah said. “He’s on his honeymoon. I’ve been tailing King today.”

The gruff voice swore. “You got anything yet?”

“No.”

“If Collins isn’t there—”

“So what?” Noah reviewed the pictures he’d just shot on his camera. “Give me another week or two. I’ll have enough evidence to make you happy.”

“We’re paying you a hell of a lot of money to prove those two so-called psychic detectives are frauds. You’d better get us something soon.”

The other man abruptly ended the call, but it was the paused image on his laptop that gave Noah more reason to worry. He didn’t have time to figure out what was going on in this house.

He had a job to do, and the sooner he finished it, the sooner he could address the problems in this house and get a decent night’s sleep.

Rubbing his eyes, he risked another look through the blinds. Emma – he preferred the name to Spider – and the dogs were still lingering in his yard. It was late. Dark. Didn’t the young woman know it wasn’t smart to be walking the dogs alone at this hour? Granted, it was a nice neighbourhood, but … he couldn’t help but think about his sisters doing such a ridiculous thing.

With a harsh curse, he reached for the keys sitting on the desk. It would do as an excuse to go outside and see that she made it safely home.

He pretended not to notice her as he stepped out on the front porch, trotted down the steps and headed for his car. Good thing his garage was still filled with moving boxes. Otherwise, he’d have parked inside. The dogs began barking and Noah lifted his gaze in their direction, acting surprised to see them.

Strange thing was, both dogs and the woman were looking up at his house. Emma smiled, directed an awkward wave toward his second floor, and then tugged the animals back before dropping her gaze to where he stood. “Come on, guys. Our night time walk is over. Shhh!”

Noah followed her gaze up toward his bedroom window.

“Sorry,” she called, drawing his attention back to her. “We didn’t mean to bother you or your, er, wife.”